Chapter 1
“Arion, you idiot!” Zallon, the High Keeper of Magic, yelled.
“I’m sorry sir. I’ll clean it up immediately,” Arion said. He was always spilling something or tripping over his own two feet.
Zallon frequently wondered what he had done in another life to deserve a ward such as Arion. How was he supposed to teach anything to the boy?
Arion was an unknown in the Kingdom of Gavalon. Orphaned at a young age there was no history on his lineage, but the magic stone had spoken. Whoever or whatever he was, the magic of Gavalon flowed strong through his veins. Of course, Zallon had never confessed that to Arion. As far as he knew Zallon had needed a helper and because Arion was bleeding the kingdom dry with no hope of adoption, the old wizard had been awarded him at a young age to assist in the Records of High Magic.
Arion had come to live with Zallon when he was just seven years old and was now about to celebrate his twentieth year.
“Nearly twenty cycles of the moons I’ve seen in my lifetime, Zallon, yet I’ve never done anything. I’ve never seen anything. I’ve never experienced anything.”
“Arion, the purpose of a magic keeper is not action and adventure. It’s knowledge,” Zallon said tapping Arion on the forehead with his index finger.
“But why can’t it be both?” Arion insisted.
Zallon sighed. “Perhaps at one time it was, but that is no longer necessary in the age we live.”
“But it was once?” Arion persisted. “Perhaps it will be again,” he said hopefully.
A shadow crossed Zallon’s face. “Do not wish such things upon us. You do not know the darkness our ancestors fought valiantly to rid this land from, to rid all of Amaria from. I warn you not to even speak such thoughts into the universe.”
Arion was frustrated in his life and longing for adventure and excitement. Instead, he was stuck with daily chores and mundane studies of magic. Magic should have been fun and interesting at least, but in reality, it was just books and tests like any other class he’d studied during his school days.
Going for a walk sometimes helped with the frustrations, and a break from Zallon was never a bad thing. As Arion stretched his long legs and began to wander through the gardens outside the House of Magic, he began to relax some.
He climbed a small hill to the bench that looked out over the kingdom. The castle loomed high behind him, but it was the valley below that called to him.
Gavalon was a land of lush green rolling fields and forests dotted with waterfalls that gave it a magical feel. White majestic unicorns roamed the area. It was forbidden to kill a unicorn or harm one in any way. The people had lived in peace beside them for many generations. They were sacred to the kingdom.
Watching them in the distance, Arion didn’t notice as one approached behind him until her head nuzzled against his neck.
“Callia, cut that out,” Arion said with a laugh pulling away from the creature. “That tickles.” He turned to nuzzle the unicorn that had chosen to friend him the day he arrived at the House of Magic, a scrawny little orphan with no hope for a future.
Things had changed for Arion since that day. He was awaiting approval to officially move from ward of the kingdom to apprentice of magic. Zallon said he had selected him personally as his predecessor. It should have made Arion proud, as Zallon was a very important man in the kingdom. Perhaps being raised by him had skewed Arion’s perceptions as he knew Zallon was fallible, no different than any other man.
“What are you doing up here, girl?” Arion asked as he petted his closest friend in the world. “You’re supposed to be out there, running with your kind and splashing through waterfalls. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
She whinnied and danced around as if in protest.
“Fine. You can stay,” he said, always grateful for her visits.
It had been a lonely life cut off from much of the kingdom as a child growing into a young man. He understood that was necessary. Arion had a chance at being the next High Keeper of Magic. He knew well what an isolated life that would mean, but most of the time he didn’t mind. Zallon had always been good to him and Arion wanted to please the old man.
Still, it was not an easy life where a mystical unicorn was his best friend and only confidante.
“How about a run?” Arion suggested to Callia.
She gave him a comical look. It was true he had two left feet that he often tripped over, but with his twentieth year approaching, Arion wanted to at least try to overcome some of his youthful flaws. He had taken to running daily and was building muscles and growing stronger for it.
“Come on,” he insisted as he got up and stretched, then took off at a sprint. Callia merely trotted next to him barely exerting herself as if mocking him, but he didn’t let that dissuade him as he pushed on faster and harder than he normally would.
They ran until the sun was high in the sky before making their way back. As he approached the staircase that would lead him up to the Hall of Magic, he slowed back to a walk. Callia nuzzled against him as if congratulating him on a good run.
A noise nearby spooked her, and her large head whipped in the direction, before she reared up on her hind legs, knocking him to the ground as she turned and ran in the opposite direction.
Curious of what had scared his friend off, Arion went to investigate, but before he could round the corner, Zallon was calling for him. He instead turned and walked up the stairs after throwing one final look in his original direction.
“Coming, sir,” he yelled up.
Zallon had lunch waiting when Arion arrived. As they ate, a courier arrived from the King with a scroll of the utmost importance. Zallon accepted it and thanked the young man. A concerned look crossed the old man’s face as he unrolled and read it.
“What is it?” Arion asked.
“Probably nothing. The princess has disappeared. I’ve been summoned to do a tracking spell once again. Someday that girl will grow up and realize how much of my time she continues to waste,” he said. “Finish your meal and I want you to clean up the conservatory while I’m gone.”
Arion groaned in disappointment causing Zallon to give him a stern look.
“Yes, sir,” he said with a sigh.
Days like that made him feel like little more than a maid to the wizard.
After lunch, Arion quickly washed his dishes and set them out to dry while he went to the conservatory to begin his chores.
The conservatory held many priceless relics of the realm and various magical objects that Zallon always preached the importance of. The most important of these was nothing more than a hunk of purple rock on display. It was thought that all magic for the Kingdom came from that one stone.
To Arion it looked like nothing more than a rock on a pedestal. No different than any other amethyst he’d ever seen. Sometimes he thought Zallon invented “magical” things just to make it look like a more important place than it was.
Sure, Arion knew magic truly existed. He’d been able to do basic spells himself for years, but the supposed magical artifacts in the conservatory didn’t make sense to him. As far as he was concerned, they were just hunks of dust collectors left for him to clean.
Arion went to the closet and opened it to pull out a broom, mop, bucket, and feather duster, then headed for the room to begin his chores. As he started sweeping, it wasn’t long before a song filled his head as he danced around, first sweeping, then mopping the floors as he sang and danced throughout the room.